Harry Potter and the Long War
by Empty Words
Summary: The War has been raging longer than Harry Potter's been alive. With the whole of the British Isles lost and Voldemort reigning supreme, the Order is in exile, still fighting the good fight. Alternate Universe setting.
1. Chapter 1

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter One  
**

The Channel was a right bloody mess as a storm raged across the whole of south England. At forty thousand feet in the air, Harry Potter, was above the lightning, thunder, and whipping rain, but it didn't stop him from cursing his ill luck.

No one bothered to divine the weather on this most auspicious of nights. Most likely they had taken the word of some Frog wizard without double checking. Everyone knew that the Frogs were only halfheartedly involved in this war so what did they care about missions into the heart of darkness?

"Who's bloody idea was this anyway?" he muttered.

"Who amongst you English cares so much about the fate of every man, woman, and child in your lands/" A feminine voice with a delicious trace of a French accent said into his ear.

Harry grinned as he glanced to his left to see a witch flying beside him on her own broom. Fleur Delacour, beautiful, petite, and the most dangerous woman he'd ever had the luck to share a bed with. She arched an aristocratic brow at him.

Bloody bleeding Minister of Magic in Exile, Severus Snape. There was a war to be fought and here they were, the best of the Order riding straight into the maw of the Death Eaters for what looked to be a purely PR endeavor.

"Give them hope," Snape had said. "Give the people hope."

Harry fished out a pocket watch from his robes and glanced down at the storm below. Well, if he didn't want to be above the British coastline, in a storm, and with his arse hanging out for all to see, he bloody well shouldn't have volunteered for the mission in the first place. He cast a smile back to Delacour.

"Let's give some Death Eater hell, shall we, love?"

Delacour gave back a predatory smile.

DEFENSE PLATFORM 42

Lord Gregory Lackheart, Pure Blood Death Eater; second class, regional commander of the Southern British Defense Network, glared at his subordinate.

"What do you mean, you felt something?" he demanded.

The subordinate, some mudblood that didn't deserve to be in his presence, huddled at his feet. "The net, m'lord, something passed through it."

"Something? Something?" he snarled. He kicked the mudblood and stormed off to the net. "I should hang you for such drivel."

A dozen goblins cranked and twisted knobs on a machine of brass and steel. They looked up at the Lackheart and moved a tad faster at their work. Their lord was in a foul mood and they knew what that brought, death.

Lackheart stopped before a great tapestry mounted on the wall. It showed all fifty defense platforms that were under his control, the southern line of defense from the mudblood invasion that was brewing across the Channel. He peered at the net, a fine silver thread that crisscrossed the tapestry.

Something blipped on it. Right over his platform. Number 42.

"What the-" he began.

An explosion erupted and Lackheart was thrown into the tapestry.

A hole twenty feet across and twice as high was blown into the main wall of the defense platform. Goblins ran, knowing that there was going to be some bad things going down. Meanwhile, the small detachment of guards scrambled to the hole, wands held high.

A figure marched through the hole, a broomstick over a shoulder and a wand in his other hand. He grinned down at the milling guards.

"Oi, I'm Harry Potter and I've got a message for you beloved lord and master, Voldie. 'He's a fuckwit arsehole.'" Harry said.

The guards stared at him.

"Bloody hell, I'll just tell him myself," he said, tossing aside his broomstick.

The guards rushed him and Harry smiled.

LONDON, MINISTRY OF CONTROL

"Sir! Sir!" a half blood courier cried.

Ronald Weasley, Pure Blood, Death Eater; second class, and combat auror, stopped and watched as the young woman caught up with his long strides. She carried a scroll that she handed to him after bowing. Ron read the message and looked at the woman.

"Lord Voldemort commands me so?" he asked.

"Sir, a few minutes ago there was a report that said there was an attack upon the Southern Defense Line." The courier said, bowing again. "The Advisors think it's just an Order probe, but Our Lord wishes further investigation."

"Lackheart, he may have the bloodlines and connections to achieve a command position, but lack's more than just heart," Ronald glared.

"Sir…" the woman said terrified. "I was just told to deliver the message."

Ronald looked down at the woman and smiled apologetically. He slipped the briefcase he had been carrying into the woman's arms. "Please, tell Lord Voldemort that his will shall be done."

The courier bowed and backed out of his sight.

Ronald pulled out his wand, took a breath, and apparated.

DEFENSE PLATFORM 42

Smoke filled Ronald's lungs. He coughed and waved his wand to clear the air. Immediately he knew that it wasn't just a simple raid or probe into the defense line. This was a full out attack. Fire and destruction filled the main control room and there weren't any workers to be seen anywhere.

Rage filled Ronald as he marched through the fire and smoke, his eyes locking upon a writhing figure on the floor. A half blood guard lay in a pool of his own blood, he looked pleadingly at Ronald.

"Help, sir," the man whispered.

"What happened here?" Ronald demanded.

"It was Harry Potter, sir. He's here."

"Harry Potter! Why wasn't this message sent to the Ministry!" He flashed the guard and stormed into the smoke and fire, following the sounds of fighting.

A guard stumbled away, his face on fire. Harry pulled out his pocket watch and sighed.

"Sorry, gents, but this wizard is going to have to call it a night." Harry slipped the watch back into his robes.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Harry whirled around and saw a flash of red before he was thrown to the ground. His breath was knocked out of him and he cursed himself for not being faster. He rolled to his feet, a spell on his lips, but something hard, bright, and painful struck him in the chest. He went down to his knees.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, spitting blood.

"Look at me, Potter!" a voice screamed.

Harry looked up to see a tall ginger bloke standing over him. The features and hair were familiar to him.

"A bloody ginger, must be a bleeding Weasley," he said, laughing.

"I am Ronald Weasley and you're going to die tonight, Potter!" the man yelled.

"Didn't I kill one of you buggers in Belgium? How many of you are there?" Harry got to his feet, watching as the man's faced flash to a crimson that almost matched his hair color.

"His name was George and I'm here to avenge him!"

With that, the ginger charged.


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Two**

Harry had to admit that the Ginger was good. He battered, sliced, crushed, and destroyed with the all mighty righteous fury of someone seeking revenge. That was also going to be his downfall. A bloke can't be bothered to have his head clouded with daydreams of revenge. Makes them sloppy.

Something exploded and Harry found himself with his backside against the stone floor and staring up at the triumphant face of the Ginger. Then again sometimes anger channeled a fellow.

"This is the great Harry Potter?" he said. "The greatest enemy of the Wizarding World?"

"Come now, mate. You don't have to lather me up with compliments before you kill me," Harry said.

"You deserve a slow death," the Ginger said.

"Take a number," a voice said behind him.

The Ginger whirled around to face Delacour. Her wand spat fire and he began defending. Harry rolled to his feet and joined the fray, the Ginger snarled a curse knowing he was out numbered. He glared at them and then vanished with a pop.

"That sounded personal," Fleur said, glancing at Harry. "You know this man?"

"No, love, but it seems I've met his brother before."

"Oh and how did that meeting turn out?"

"Killed the bloke." Harry shrugged. "It's war, love. People die. Especially the ones that like to torture Muggles for fun."

Fleur's face soften for a moment and then she leaned forward kissing his cheek. Her eyes scanned the corridor they were standing in and she raised an eyebrow. "It appears you've been having fun without me, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "A bit of fire, destruction, and mayhem. Plenty to go around."

"You speak such lovely things," Fleur purred, pulling Harry close and kissing him passionately.

"And how did your bit of business go, love?" Harry asked.

"The entire southern line is down. Anyone with a portkey or the ability to apparate can do so if they wish." Fleur kissed Harry again.

"Excellent," another voice said.

Harry turned to see Sirius Black approaching them, behind him stood a pair of wizards that kept a keen watch for attack. Harry shot Fleur a questioning look, but she shrugged. Sirius wasn't supposed to be here, if there was a wizard that Voldemort wanted dead more than any other it would have been Sirius Black.

For more than twenty years he'd been fighting Voldemort and he was the sole reason that Voldemort hadn't expanded out of England.

"You did well, Harry." Sirius said, smiling slightly.

"All in a day's work, sir," Harry flourished a bow.

"He didn't do it all himself, though," Fleur said, a tone in her voice.

"Have you met my lovely assistant, uncle?" Harry said, smiling. Fleur cuffed him on the shoulder. "An I suppose the great migration is on it's way?"

Sirius flicked his wand and an image appeared upon the battle battered wall. It showed disheveled men and women and children being escorted toward portkeys. Twenty thousand wizards, witches, and Muggles were being ushered out of the heart of England and into freedom. Harry watched the image for a bit and then nodded to himself.

Give them hope, Snape had said and now he understood it. Harry looked at the faces, those poor buggers trapped behind Voldemort's lines, forced into slavery as the dark lord built up his army of monsters and pure bloods. The war could be fought by a few wizards and witches, but there was a reason they were fighting.

"Quite a show, uncle," Harry said. "But why risk coming here yourself? Voldemort gets wind of you being here, he'll send in every Death Eater he can to capture you."

"Special delivery," Sirius said, he gestured his head and they began walking down the corridor. Fleur and the two wizards shadowing them quietly.

The control room was a mess, but the goblins that ran the machinery were back. Harry watched with amusement as they gleefully smashed the machines they had been forced to build and operate. Crafty creatures, goblins. Voldemort had used their abilities to create magical devices that kept his little island paradise under his boot.

Many figured that the goblins were allied with Voldie, but Harry knew the truth. No one could ally themselves with a monster before being sucked under. The Goblins had been enslaved like everyone else.

There was a loud pop and three figures appeared. Two witches and a wizard.

"Harry." The wizard said, "heard it was you that brought down the line."

Harry clasped Frank Longbottom's hand and gave a shake. Alice Longbottom, always by his side gave Harry a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Whoever the witch they were escorting must be a big deal. Not only did it bring Voldemort's most wanted to England, but it also brought Voldemort's second most wanted couple to England itself.

Harry glanced around, feeling uneasy. With this many of the Order's top brass in one location, a single spell could wipe them all out. His eyes met the third figure. Harry looked at her and wondered what was so special about the girl.

She seemed rather plain, her hair tied back and her robes a modest grey. She wasn't hollowed eyed or starving like the people they had been evacuating, she appeared well fed and clean. Not a laborer, something more. Harry noted the bag she carried, a leather bag, with the spine of a book peeking out of it.

"Hello," the witch said, extending her hand, "my name is Hermione Granger."


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Three**

Twenty thousand people freed from the clutches of Voldemort, that was more than enough reason to party. Old friends, family, and loved ones were reunited and with it flowed music, wine, and fire whisky.

Harry longed to be among the throngs of people filling the village that had become the heart of the British Wizarding World in exile. Before the war, the town had a French name and had been populated by French wizards. It was now called Dumbledore, after the man who had first stopped Voldemort from spreading across the Channel.

Harry had heard stories of Dumbledore, from his parents and later his uncle. Supposedly he had defeated another dark lord before Voldemort, but it seemed old Voldie was too powerful. He'd died toward the end of the war in England, fighting to get as many people from the island as possible before Voldemort's forces finally triumphed.

The top brass of the exiles were gathered in a wood paneled meeting room. The Minister of Magic, Severus Snape, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius Black, the Longbottoms, Olympe Maxime, who ran the local magical school and was the biggest, literally, supporter of the continued resistance against Voldemort in France, and Snape's second in command, Amelia Bones.

Harry had been invited to the meeting and he knew an order when he heard one. The new witch was there also, the Hermione Granger. She sat at Severus' side and took in everyone. She seemed calmed and sure of herself. Their eyes met and she smiled at him.

"We've accomplished a great thing tonight," Snape said, his voice low and weary. Harry had known him all his life and he didn't think he'd ever seen him smile. He was the same as his uncle, but where Sirius was dark haired, straight backed, and ready for a fight, Snape seemed hunched, white haired, and ready for an early grave.

The pressures of responsibility, Harry thought. He was glad he didn't have any.

"We have brought families back together, we have weakened Voldemort's base of power, sent shock waves through his ranks, and shown him that we are not yet defeated and will continue the fight."

"Here, here!" everyone shouted.

"I'd like to introduce you to Hermione Granger, without her help, tonight would have been a disaster rather than a victory," Snape gestured to the girl and she rose, a blush rising ot her face.

"I am pleased to meet you all," she said.

"It is Miss Granger who decoded the defense line's security system, it is she who gave us the means to knock it down for hundreds of miles, and with her help we managed to boost the abilities of the portkeys to allow for a mass evacuation of people. Today, my friends, we owe her a great debt."

"First round's on me," Harry said, drumming his fingers and leaning back in his chair. He was missing out on a lot of revelry so that people could pat themselves on the back for a job well done. Honestly, didn't they know Delacour was out there, waiting for him?

Hermione smiled faintly. "I'm glad to do what I could to help those in need, but I'm sure it's the bravery of men and women who spread the word, organized the evacuation, and knocked down the defense line need to be praised more than my small role."

"Excellent, most of those men and women are out in the streets, well into their cups. How about we all go down and join them?" Harry said.

"Harry," Sirius cast him a look. Harry sighed.

"The evacuation of refugees was a humanitarian effort, this meeting is to inform you all about events transpiring in Voldemort's realm that may have negative effects for our continued efforts to free our homeland." Snape said.

"Two years ago," Frank Longbottom began, "we heard of experiments going on. Among the enslaved Muggles and even some of the Magical beings. We still had a few contacts in the new Ministry and we managed to make contact with an up and coming young reseracher."

"We are told that the Order was destroyed and the only hope for safety and salvation was to obey the High Lord," Hermione said. "We've lived all our lives under his rule, but to know that there are people still fighting…" she paused, a smile gracing her face, "I suddenly felt that there was hope that our people could be free again. I would do anything to help."

"Our contacts managed to get Miss Granger to be interviewed as a Research Assistant with Doctor Septima Vector. Vector does not accept anyone lightly, so a lot of this is owed to Miss Granger's own intelligence and abilities that she was accepted."

"Doctor Vector was brilliant, the things I learned under her." Granger had an expression of almost joy on her face.

"Yeah, but she works for old Voldie," Harry said.

"The High Lord's been in control of the British Isles for nearly twenty years. Everyone works for Voldemort, if they want to live. He's corrupted a whole generation of men and women, warped theirs minds, and feeds off the intelligence and abilities of everyone trapped there." Hermione said.

"Did Vector make it out?" Harry asked.

A look crossed Hermione's face and she shook her head. "No," she said quietly.

"With Miss Granger's help, we managed to secure documents regarding Project Tether," Alice Longbottom said. She set a stack of folders on the table.

Harry pulled a folder off the top and began skimming it. The pictures were… gruesome. Dissections of magical beasts, Wizarding folk, and Muggles. Blood and carnage he'd grown up with, a lifetime at war, but the systematic, cold and logical slicing and dicing of people sent shivers down his spine. Vector was a brilliant woman, but Harry could see more than just the love of research and magic going on in the pictures.

"He's getting Vector to cut up poor buggers?" Harry asked.

"No," Sirius said, "he's building himself a magical army, using Muggles."


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Four**

Harry had thought he heard it all. All these years of war, both sides had come up with plans, ideas, and stratagems that were both brilliant and crazy. Using Muggles as a base for a magical army seemed utter madness. Yet there they were, a witch that had worked on the project and the highest ranking men and women believing every word of it.

His mind was still reeling when Sirius invited him back to his office.

"This is madness," Harry said.

"Yes, but it doesn't make it any less real."

"Can they really do what she says?"

"Miss Granger has been completely honest with us since the Longbottoms made contact with her." Sirius said, pouring a pair of glasses of fire whisky. "She's a brilliant witch, Harry, in addition she has been working with Doctor Vector on this project. There's only a handful of people in the Wizarding world that truly understands what it was that Vector was working on. Hermione is one of those few."

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered and downed the drink he was handed. "We've got to hit them fast. Destroy whatever it is they're making before they can use it."

Sirius settled down behind his desk, sipping his whisky. "We took causalities on this mission, Harry. Some captured, others killed and many hurt. We may have rescued twenty thousand people, but that's only three quarters of what we were supposed to take out of there."

"Who did we lose?" Harry asked. He dreaded the question, but he was a soldier for the Order. He had fought in battles and he had seen many of his friends die in the line of battle.

"The official list hasn't come in yet, but its more than we can afford to quickly replace," Sirius said. "We weren't betrayed. Some got sloppy, others it was just plain bad luck."

Harry nodded, settling down in the chair before Sirius' desk.

"I need you to do something for me, Harry."

"Anything. Send me to the front, I'll bash Death Eater head until there isn't one standing."

"No, Harry. I need you here. The girl, Hermione. I need you to watch over her." Sirius said.

"Babysit the witch?" Harry jumped from his seat. "Voldemort's building an army across the Channel, we're down Merlin only knows how many fighters, and you want me to babysit the witch?"

"Yes."

Harry sat down and looked at his uncle. "Is she that important?" he asked.

"Yes, she's more important than you realize." Sirius said. "We might not be able to stop Voldemort, but we might be able to counter what he's doing. He knows she's missing and he knows that she'll be telling us all his plans. If there is anyone in this world right now that Voldemort wishes to see dead, it's her Harry. She's the key that may save us all from this abomination of an army."

Harry sighed again and rubbed his temples. Things had seemed much easier and fun when he had been destroying defense platform with Delacour.

"That's why I was in the meeting, no?" he asked.

"Of course. You need to know what it is you're protecting."

"A smart witch that once worked for Voldemort creating abominations to use against her own countrymen."

"She's also Muggle born," Sirius said.

Harry barked a laugh. "Perfection. Fleur's going to love this."

"I sent her on another mission," Sirius said.

"What? Where?"

"It's confidential." Sirius said.

Harry glared at his uncle and stood up. "When are my babysitting duties to begin?" Harry asked.

"She's right outside. From now on, she's not to leave your sight, unless you're dead or ordered to by me and me only."

Harry snapped off a salute and stalked out of the office.

Four Order soldiers were in the lobby with the Granger girl. They saw Harry, nodded, and departed quickly. They were missing out on a party, after all.

Harry and Hermione stood in the lobby eyeing one another.

"You must be impressive." Hermione said.

Harry raised and eyebrow. "Has my reputation proceeded me?" he asked.

"Those four have been with me since I got here. If it takes four to guard me and they only send you to take their place, that must make you impressive."

"We're all soldiers here, Miss Granger. Some of us were just born into positions where trust in sensitive assignments is automatically given." Harry said.

"Blood is thicker than water. Is Sirius Black your father?" Hermione asked.

"No, he's the only thing I have left to one," Harry replied.

A silence descended and they eyed one another again.

"Everyone's celebrating. I owe you a round," Harry said, gesturing toward the door.

Hermione smiled and Harry followed her out of the lobby and into the party that hadn't slowed down once in the hours since the meeting. He definitely needed a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Five**

It was well past two in the morning, but the streets of Dumbledore were still jam packed with people. Music filled every corner, beer and wine filled every cup, and as Harry pushed into the Grizzled Wizard, a pub that was frequented mainly by Order members, he saw the revelry even spilled into the place.

"Is this place safe?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, "Everyone here is apart of the Order. It's the safest place you'll find in all of northern France." The barkeep, Harold, immediately gave him a pint as he stepped up to the bar.

Harry paused before the Wall and noted the dozen new pictures on there. Three of the faces he immediately recognized, the others only in passing. There were scores that filled the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and he hadn't fully met all of them, but they were all his brothers and sisters in combat. Harry set his drink on the long table that held dozens of other offerings to the fallen.

Sirius was right in that it would take months to replace those fallen. He noted some Old Timers on the wall, experienced witches and wizards who knew how to handle a wand better than any new recruit. They'd be on the defensive for a while, meanwhile Voldemort was building himself an army of Muggles.

"Are these…" Hermione began.

"The honored dead." Harry said, looking up at the pictures. He felt a pricking at the edge of his eyes.

"Were they friends of yours?" Hermione asked, standing beside him.

"Aye, there's Marietta Edgecombe, the bravest woman I've ever met, saved me from a load of ogres in Ireland once. There's Rolanda Hooch, she was an Order instructor and taught me everything I know on the broom, and there's Zacharias Smith, who was always the first into a fight and the last to leave. Merlin only knows how many times he's had my back in a fight." Harry shook his head.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"We're soldiers, we knew what we were getting into." Harry said. He gave Hermione a reassuring smile. "Let's get that drink shall we?"

They settled in a back table and Harry downed a shot of fire whisky. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, eyeing Hermione over his pint of beer.

"You seem to be taking this all very well," Harry said.

Hermione shrugged. "Do you mean fleeing my home or being saddled with a bodyguard for Merlin only knows how long?" she asked.

"All of it."

Hermione toyed with the rim of her pint for a moment. "There's a few things you need to know about me. I'm Muggle born," she said looking straight at him. He knew she was looking for a reaction, either good or bad. Harry didn't move a muscle, instead he merely nodded. "A lot of people are put off by that fact," she added.

"It's no matter to me," Harry said. "We can't choose to whom we're born. Muggles, witches, pureblood families." Harry shrugged. "As long as we're in this war together."

"My parents were Muggles with no wizarding ancestry to them. When Voldemort came to power, all Muggles became slaves. It didn't matter who you were, what position you held before he came to power, you were a slave to the ones with magic. My parents were dentists and that bought them a minor amount respect and protection in the camps, they were the closest things people had to doctors. But when it came out that I was a witch, well, they assumed my parents were some kind of collaborators." Hermione sighed and blinked her eyes rapidly. "People can be cruel when they think they've been betrayed and lied to. Muggle or Wizard."

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"Voldemort despises Mudbloods, but even a Mudblood is still above a Muggle in his eyes. I may have come from tainted parentage, but I was still better than Muggles. I was ten before I began manifesting magical powers. To the magical people, I was tainted by my Muggle upbringing, I was never a true witch in their eyes. But they couldn't neglect the fact that I was one of them, in a way. They needed every witch and wizard they could lay their hands on. In a different time, in a different world, I might have been allowed to live my life among the Muggles, never knowing what I could do." Hermione shrugged, sipping her beer.

"Voldemort's obsessed about power and blood purity. Only the purebloods can be in positions of power, but that doesn't extend to the lowly professions of craftsmen, researchers, or anything that doesn't involve giving orders and making war.

"Mudbloods like me can rise up to positions that have power, but a different sort of power. There are plenty of positions that aren't purely military and once you get to the top of something, people stop seeing your parentage and start seeing your position. In Voldemort's world, position is everything. "\

Hermione sighed again. "It's a cruel world out there, Harry. I wanted so much to change it all, to help people, to make things better, but there's no way anyone can make anything better in Voldemort's world. The only way to make him gone, to kill him or to overthrow him." Hermione looked Harry straight in the eye. "What is your position on Voldemort, Harry?"

Harry took a long sip from his beer. "He killed my parents, I want to see him dead," he said flatly.

Hermione nodded. "Now, I know I can trust you," she said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Six**

**HOGWART'S PRISON**

Ronald Weasley, Pure blood, Death Eater; second class, and combat auror, could not sleep. It wasn't the cell, it wasn't the screaming in the distance, it was that smug face of Harry Potter that filled his mind. He paced his cell, a rather large and richly appointed cell, but a cell nevertheless.

The sun was beginning to rise. Since his escape from the attack upon the defense platform, he had been captured by the Dementors and detained in Hogwart's. Ronald knew it was standard procedure until the night's events had been fully uncovered.

He hadn't had much contact with anyone and those loyal, faceless monsters that guarded the prison weren't much in the way of talking. Whatever had happened last night, it had been big and it had not just been a simple attack upon the platforms.

The screaming, a constant, almost unstopping wail of pain could only be Lackheart feeling the tender mercies of the High Lord. It was well and right that man should suffer, he had let his command go lax and those bloody French backed Order raiders had found a weakness to exploit. Under Voldermort's reign, weakness had to be stomped out. Even the Pure Bloods were not immune from Purges.

A knock sounded on his door and it creaked open. A woman in a dark maroon cloak stepped into the room. She pulled back her hood and smiled up at Ronald.

"Brother," Ginevra Weasley breathed. The shock of ginger hair marked them as blood relation, the smile and the warm hug they shared showed them as siblings.

"Ginny," Ronald said.

"Don't call me that," Ginevra said, in a tone that said she had told him a hundred times before.

He looked down at her and noticed the roundness of her midsection.

"You weren't kidding that you were with child," he said.

Ginevra smiled proudly. "Five months along, dear brother. You should visit more often."

"I have my duties." Ronald said, stepping away from her. "And how is the father your the child?"

Ginevra's smile faded. "Busy," she said.

"From what I hear, he's busy with other witches across the realm," Ronald said.

"How dare you," Ginevra snapped. "You're the one locked in a cell."

"I'd rather be in this cell than have my own sister sell her body to a wanker who only has his family's political ties to his name," Ronald snarled.

"The Malfoys are an old and honored family, honored even by the High Lord himself." Ginevra said.

"I know this Draco, Ginevra. He's nothing more than a preening bully that relies on what his family name can get him, not what he can do."

"His family has sway and connections, Ronald. What do we have? A dishonored name, a name associated with Muggle-lovers and traitors? Its only due to the High Lord's intervention that we're not cast out with the half bloods and mudbloods." Ginevra snapped.

"And by doing our duty and upholding our promise to the High Lord to remain loyal, we will reclaim our name," Ronald said. "We have given our lord everything we are able, Percy, Fred, and I. If others doubt the intentions of the Weasleys, then they only have to look at George. He gave his life for the High Lord."

"The higher we rise in the esteem of the High Lord, the more the other families will seek our downfall. Duty and loyalty are only two legs of the chair, brother. Words cast in the right ear, those can destroy everything we've worked for as much as outright betraying the High Lord."

"Gossip by fools. The High Lord will see our deeds and know we are to be trusted," Ronald said.

"Look at you, brother, look at my three brothers. None of you has yet to wed, none of you has yet to start a family that will lay a new generation loyal to the High Lord. We need to ally ourselves with other family and we need to begin obeying the Decree," Ginevra said.

Ronald stepped away from her. "I have my duties," he said.

"You may not care gossip, brother, but there is plenty about you. They say you've been spending your time with some Mudblood that is practically a Muggle." Disgust filled Ginevra voice.

"They are fools," Ronald said.

"No, you're the one who's the fool," Ginevra hissed. "Right now your brothers are beseeching the High Lord not to flay you for your failures and treason."

Ronald gasped and turned to face Ginevra. "What?"

"Do you not know what happened tonight?"

"An attack upon the defense platform," Ronald said.

"The attack was a sideshow. The entire southern defense line was destroyed. Twenty thousand enemies of the state, Muggles, and traitors fled when the anti-portkey and anti-apparation net went down. Twenty thousand people filled with the knowledge of all our High Lord's plans, from every level of government, and there are names on the list of who have fled that will shock you. Names that were high in our lord's esteem," Ginevra said.

Ronald felt cold. "Is her name-" he began.

"Hermione Granger, mudblood." Ginevra hissed. "She fled, her mentor and teacher, Doctor Vector, is dead and there are reports that she left with the Longbottoms."

Ronald sat heavily upon a plush couch and looked at his sister.

"From the very heart of the Ministry of Control and from what I've been hearing, working on something that the High Lord wanted completed very, very badly. And she was seen in your company many times, brother."

"What am I going to do?" Ronald asked. Hermione had left? How could she have left?

Ginevra swooped down beside him, wrapping an arm around him. "Worry not, brother. We are doing everything we can. We just have to distance ourselves from this mess. You were fighting on the defense platform, protecting our lord's property and land. This Mudblood, you were just using her for pleasure, weren't you? You weren't in love with her?"

"I…" Ronald paused.

"Were you?" Ginevra asked, horrified.

"No. No, I wasn't." Ronald said quickly.

"I should hope not," Ginevra said. "We can still get ahead of this mess, perhaps even come out on top."

Ronald shook his head staring at her. "How?"

"There are some families that have lessen since the High Lord came to power. The Macmillans, the Slughorns, and the Notts. They have daughters that need to marry into pureblood families, families who's loyalties are unquestioned, and they have plenty of connections, enough to make sure you don't see the wrath of our Lord." Ginevra said.

Ronald sat back and rubbed his temples. "You're suggesting that the way I get out of this mess is to marry my way out of it?"

"What other way do you see? Last night's events has thrown everything into chaos. Loyal servants to the High Lord have fled, there are accusations of collaboration are being thrown around. We need to stand strong and stand together to weather this storm. The old houses, the pureblood houses will weather this storm and we're going to need all the help we can get.

"We can put out the story that you have been seeing one of these pureblood daughters for a while now, with intention of marrying them. That this, Hermione Granger, was just some mudblood whore trying to climb out of the disgusting pit she was born into. People can understand a young man's lust and how it makes him foolish."

"I…" Ronald shook his head.

Ginevra hugged Ronald tightly.

"I'm not losing anymore brothers, understand," she said in his ear.

"He was there," Ronald said, suddenly. "Last night, he was there, taunting me."

"Who?" Ginevra asked.

"Harry Potter, the one who killed George." Ronald clenched his hands. "I almost had him, Ginny. If it weren't for that French whore he was with, then he'd be dead."

"Only if," Ginevra sighed, "only if he had died. Then the High Lord would not have looked unkindly upon us."

Ronald nodded, still seeing Harry Potter's face. "When I see him again, I'll kill him," he said.

Ginevra hugged him again. "But first we must get though this day and sort out a potential wife for you."

Ronald hesitated for a moment, the image of Harry Potter replaced by another. The brown hair, the smile, and the bright eyes...

"Okay," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Seven**

DUMBLEDORE, FRANCE

Hermione woke with a start. She way lying on a strange bed, in a room that didn't feel right, and a sensation that coursed through her body she wasn't used to. She blinked her eyes and rolled over in the strange bed, feeling the cool sheets under her palms.

She remembered where she was now, Harry Potter's flat. A small one room bachelor flat that held a large bed, an untidy room, and a single couch. She moved her free arm along the empty side of the bed, holding back a sigh.

She could almost feel the other presence beside her, the warm body of Ronald as he had slept beside her. He would whisper things to her at night, small things about a future together, about how he didn't care about her parentage, and the life they would lead. The the darkness and away from prying eyes, he could be soft and gentle. He could show her the love he had to hid working of the Ministry of Control.

He didn't have to think about blood purity, about his position, or who was trying to take his position from him. He could be goofy and funny or stare blankly at her as she rattled off theories and equations that Doctor Vector and she had worked on that day. Since the day she found out she was a witch, Hermione knew a moment's peace and quiet. She didn't have to keep reinforcing her walls or pretending insults and looks didn't hurt her.

When they were alone, they were truly the people they could be.

Tears began to prick at the edge of her eyes. She wasn't a fool, she understood the situation they were in. Ronald was a pureblood, raised by the High Lord himself, and she was nothing but a mudblood Muggle born bottom feeder. He would never be allowed to wed her, they would never be allowed to announce their love.

It was all destroyed anyway. She had chosen a side in this war, it wasn't Voldemort's side. She had betrayed him and used him and there were others thing she had done. Hermione hugged herself and curled up in the bed, suddenly feeling very, very alone.

"Harry?" she whispered.

A snore responded.

"Harry?"

"Wha-" there was a stumbling and some cursing.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered from the darkness. "Hermione?"

"I'm sorry to have waken you. I just wanted to know if you were still there."

"I've been tasked to guard you, Miss Granger, that means no sleeping on the job," Harry mumbled sleepily.

Hermione took a breath and pulled the sheets tighter around herself.

"You're safe here, Hermione," Harry said.

Oddly enough, she felt that she was. Hermione closed her eyes and slept deeply.

*******

"I've got to see Minister Snape about a lab," Hermione said the next morning.

Harry eyed her, envious of her clear eyes and well rested demeanor. He had a few too many drinks last night and the couch somehow transfigured itself into a torture device. He would have to talk to Snape about a different sleeping arrangement. So what if Dumbledore had grown by twenty thousand people? If this witch was truly important, there'd be some way the Minister of Magic in Exile could arrange a nice room somewhere, preferably in Paris, where Delacour kept her own lodgings.

"Right, but first breakfast," Harry said.

"What? We need to get to work as quickly as possible," Hermione said.

"You can't do much work without a solid breakfast and possibly a couple of kettles of tea in you first," Harry said.

"I'm sure the Minister will provide us everything we need, including food and beverages," Hermione said, trailing after him.

*******

"We had breakfast prepared," Snape said as Hermione and Harry entered the Ministry of Magic in Exile headquarters.

Harry popped the last of the croissant into his mouth and looked at Snape. "I told her that, sir," Harry said, also finishing off the last of his mug of tea, "but who was I to argue?"

Hermione glared at him and they followed Snape through the Ministry.

Harry had been her often enough to exchange a few remarks with some of the men and women who fluttered about in Ministry business. They may be exiled from there own country and in the middle of a war that's last for over two decades, but there was always time for bureaucracy. Harry assumed that even the Dark Lord had to suffer though his own red tape.

They took a lift down several levels and into an area of the Ministry that Harry was less knowledgeable about. There were levels and catacombs that criss crossed the little village of Dumbledore that most of the inhabitants didn't know about. Most of the workers had been children when they fled the homeland, but they still possessed that British work ethic.

"We were unsure as to what you needed," Snape said unlocking a set of massive doors. "What ever you need, just ask."

Hermione gasped a breath of astonishment as they entered the room. Harry was impressed, he'd figured that as far underground as they were, they'd be in some candle lit, dank cell and rats and water seeping through the walls. Instead the room was a vast brightly lit laboratory. There were windows that sent in streams of light, even though Harry knew they were too far underground for that. Massive tables were piled high with every conceivable magical instrument, container, beaker imaginable.

Minister Snape touched a small tray of beakers, a distant look on his face.

"This is wonderful, Minister," Hermione said.

"We have gathered everything we could think of you to help you in your research," Snape said, smiling faintly. Harry eyed him, he seemed to be ready to flutter away in a light breeze.

"I'll do an inventory and get back to you with what I need," Hermione said.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Send Harry if there's anything you need. You're safe down here. There are guards on every level and more ready to apparate at a moment's notice."

"I can't begin to express how grateful I am, sir," Hermione said.

"No, my dear. We're the ones who should be grateful to you. You have brought us news, you have brought us hope, without you we would have been crushed by Voldemort's schemes," Snape said. He held her hands, the small sad trace of a smile on his face.

Snape shuffled off and closed the great doors behind him.

Harry pulled out a thermos of tea and plopped down on the edge of a table.

"Well, Miss Granger, now you save the world from Voldemort's unholy army. No pressure." He sipped the tea and ducked as something flew past his head.


	8. Chapter 8

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Eight**

MINISTRY OF MAGIC - DUMBLEDORE, FRANCE

"So this magical army of Voldemort, how's it work really?" Harry asked as he shifted yet another crate of unknowable devices.

Hermione paused and wiped her brow. She had been keen on getting started on a counter for Project Tether, but it turned out her first day was devoted solely to inventory and setting up the necessary ingredients for experiments. Magic wasn't done without a lot of careful planning.

"The layman's explanation?" Hermione asked, cautiously.

"I'm a soldier, Miss Granger. I didn't do too well in Magical Theory, but I was great at Quidditch." Harry grinned.

Hermione frowned and grasped for the right words to explain what Project Tether was.

"Are you familiar with Muggle technology?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, "Sorta."

"Electrical circuits?"

"Battery, switch, wire, bulb?" Harry grinned at his knowledge.

"Correct," Hermione said, smiling. She pulled out a pad of parchment and quickly sketched out a diagram. "Through a lot of experimentation and trial and error, Doctor Vector discovered a means to transfer magical power from one person to another." She handed Harry the diagram.

There was a central figure marked 'Battery' and five lines extending from it marked "Wire", and finally five figures marked "Bulb". Harry furrowed his brow and then turned the diagram on it's side.

"Using the electronics analogy, a witch or wizard is used as a battery. Their magical power is then transferred to another or several others. A basic electronic circuit would be one bulb connecting to another to another, in a series circuit, but with we discovered that in fact the connection here is a parallel circuit. A single wizard could transfer their power to several people at once, with no lose of power overall magical output." Hermione grinned excitedly. "Although there is no basis to the idea that magical talent can be measured, the magic we are born with isn't a battery that can run out. There are stories of people burning out, as it were, or being damaged to a point where they weren't able to use their magical abilities, but to say that you can drain a person of magic is just utter rubbish."

"Magic is more analogous to thoughts. You can't drain a person of thoughts, you can disrupt, you can make it difficult, you can injure to the point where they're unable to achieve thoughts, but you can't suck them dry of it. There's nothing physically quantifiable about magic, it just happen to be there and we discovered a way to transfer it. Magical telepathy, as it were."

"How?" Harry asked.

Hermione blushed. "We're not really sure. The magic behind the whole thing isn't just beyond me, it was beyond Doctor Vector herself. All our models and equations said it wasn't possible, but we still managed to accomplish it. We got a practical application out of it, but we weren't entirely sure how to unify what we managed with our current magical theories." Hermione's eyes lit up as she sketched on another pad of paper. "We were into a completely new area of theoretical magic that no one had written up anything on yet. It was amazing and it was terrifying. We were stumbling around in the dark without a torch to light the way."

Harry turned the diagram over again. "But why Muggles?" Harry asked.

Hermione stopped smiling and looked away. "How many witches and wizards are there here, Harry?" she asked.

Harry paused. "Roughly thirty thousand now, combined with magical creatures, goblins and the like, and some trusted Muggles."

"There's more than twice that many in Voldemort's realm." Hermione said.

"Well, we did take a large chunk of them out of there," Harry said.

"It's just not that, Harry. There is a finite amount of Wizarding folk in the world. The entire wizarding population in France is less than that of Voldemort's, Germany and the other European countries are on par." Hermione looked at Harry. "The reason he's using Muggles is because there are millions of them. Millions of Muggles to use as cannon fodder."

Harry stared at the diagram, suddenly realizing. "Each one a bulb, channeling magic."

"Bulbs that are quick and easy to replace if one breaks."

"And the battery?" Harry asked.

"The battery doesn't have to volunteer to become a battery. Anyone born with magic can be used as one, voluntarily or involuntarily," Hermione said.

"All those prisoners we help escape." Harry marveled.

"Everyone of them was destined to become a battery. Every witch or wizard that Voldemort believes is against him can be captured, sedated, and used to power loyal Muggles. A whole generation of them have grown up only knowing Voldemort, they believe he is a god, that he is their entire world. Millions of Muggles would die for him," Hermione said. "They would be an endless wave."

"Merlin's beard," Harry breathed.

Hermione closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. "I got caught up in the magic, Harry. I got caught up in the experimentation, the research, the things we were learning." She looked down at her hands. "I didn't think of the big picture, I didn't think of what it would cause, to me it was only magic. It was theory, it was exciting to discover something new. I didn't realize it until it was too late." A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

Harry watched her for a moment. It seemed surreal that such death and devastation could come from the mind of this woman, that the entire world was now on the verge of being overwhelmed by Voldemort because of the research she had done. Harry had been a soldier since he could lift a wand, he'd seen the horrors that came with combat. He had seen what some men were capable of, but not on this scale.

He sat down and looked at the diagram. He ripped the parchment out from the pad and crushed it. Hermione looked up at him, startled.

"You're a brilliant witch, Hermione," Harry said. "Everyone's been saying so and now I finally get it. We're not all that different, Granger. We both grew up in a hellish world filled with war and all the talents we were born with were turned toward war."

Hermione stared at him.

"The weapon hasn't been used yet, we're not being overwhelmed by Muggles yet, and there's still time to stop it from happening. There's still time, Hermione. " Harry walked up to her. "Time enough even for dinner."

Hermione blinked and then laughed.

"But seriously, I am hungry."


	9. Chapter 9

Harry Potter and the Long War

Chapter Nine

HOGWART'S PRISON

It was late into the afternoon when Ronald was finally called to see the High Lord. Ginny had left long ago and he had spoken a few words with his brothers, before the dementors had chased them off. The hours since the brief visit had left him restless and anxious. He paced his cell and cursed his foolishness.

She had been a Mudblood, he knew it. It didn't matter if she had led him on in the beginning, who would have thought the High Lord would allow a Muggle born Mudblood to work in the Ministry of Control? He had fallen for her, thinking she was a Pureblood, even though he didn't know the name Granger. There were outside families that had flocked to Voldemort's call for a purely Wizarding Nation, no longer hiding in the shadows.

It was a possibility that she had been one of from foreign families that had come to bend the knee to Voldemort. Yet it did not forgive his foolishness in continuing the romance, by seeing her when he shouldn't have, or meeting her in the dark corners of the Ministry. It had been exciting, a feeling of rush and recklessness that still quickened his heart. He had felt alive around her, not dead inside, not constantly struggling to maintain his position.

Ronald sighed and sat down on the large four poster bed. She had been lovely, even though others didn't see it. True she was an awe inspiring physical beauty, she transcended that. She was kind, thoughtful, smart, caring, and above all she had loved him.

Then she had betrayed him and the High Lord. She had fled with the other traitors, not only that, she had fled with knowledge about something the High Lord was doing. Ronald tried racking his brain as to what she had told him about her work, but it had been too complicated, too much theory, things that made since only to someone who was deeply involved in theoretical magic.

A loud banging interrupted his reprieve. Ronald stood up to see a dementor move into the room. The shadowy black creature pointed a single arm toward the door, Ronald knew what was to come next.

He steeled himself as he passed through corridors and moving staircases. It was said that Hogwart's had been a school before and when the High Lord had taken over, he had converted it into a prison. Ronald couldn't see the school beneath the layers of grime, blood, and filth that covered the walls. This was a place of suffering and death, not learning.

The High Lord stood in the great hall, a vast chamber decorated with his victories and trophies. The mounted heads, banners, and icons of his defeated enemies. Ronald's eyes avoided those horrors. He had known the High Lord his entire life, it had been the High Lord that had pardoned his siblings and he of all wrong doings of his family. They were children and they had their entire lives to repent for the wrong doings of their mother and father.

Ronald knelt before the throne of bones that the High Lord sat upon. Behind him hissed a massive snake that coiled and crushed something, a human something.

"Ronald Weasley," the High Lord rasped.

Ronald looked. The cold eyes of Voldemort pinned him against the stone floor.

Once long ago, it was said the High Lord was a handsome man. But that had been before the war and before the Order had tried assassinating him a dozen times. His hair was still dark and wavy, but his face was scarred, a hideous lightning shaped scar crossed from one side of his face to the other, but behind that lay the cold eyes that made even the strongest men weak.

"Do you know why you are here, son?" he asked.

Ronald nodded. "I failed you, my lord. I didn't kill Harry Potter, I didn't prevent the southern defense line from falling. I should have died that night, instead of fleeing," Ronald said. He knew that lying or trying to put the blame off on someone else would only anger the High Lord, the only recourse was the admit everything and try to hide nothing. Perhaps there would be mercy in the High Lord.

"Don't be foolish, boy," Voldemort said. Ronald suddenly felt an intense relief flood him. "Lackheart was supposed to be in command of the defense line, but he failed us utterly. I am sorry, but it has taken this long to sort through all the madness that has occurred over the last day," Voldemort stood up and beckoned Ronald to do likewise.

Ronald felt that his knees would give. He wasn't going to die.

"We have become lax in our positions here, Ronald. The Purebloods grow rich and powerful and their offspring become weak and stupid, Lackheart is of a noble house, but I cannot allow for such stupidity to infest my kingdom." Together they walked our a side door and into a garden.

"Yes, sir."

"Form the report you filed, you faced off against Harry Potter and another witch?"

"I believe it was Fleur Delacour, Potter's whore, sir." Ronald said.

"Indeed. Two top level Order aurors. It is only wise that you should have retreated and brought news back to us about the attack." Voldemort said.

"Yes, sir."

"I assume you've heard of the little exodus that occurred?" Voldemort aksed.

"Yes, sir. I suppose we can now assume that the weakest links, the traitors, and the rabble have left our ranks?" Ronald asked.

"One would hope, Ronald. One would hope, but where there is one cockroach, there are a thousand unseen."

"Yes, sir."

"Loyalty requires advancement," Voldemort said.

"Sir?"

"Your brothers and sister came to me today, thinking I was blaming you for the failure of Lackheart," Voldemort smiled, a ghastly thing. "Your parents may have been traitors, child, but you and your siblings are not. They are the only few I can truly trust, for I had a hand in raising all of you."

Ronald dropped to his knee. "For that we are forever grateful, my Lord."

"As you should be." There was a pause as Ronald rose to his feet. "I hear you are to marry soon."

Ronald paused and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I hear Margaret Slughorn is a fine woman," Voldemort said, eyeing Ronald.

"Yes, sir," Ronald said. "We have been seeing one another for a while, sir."

"Without informing me?" Voldemort sounded amused.

"You know how the court gossips, sir. Among the Purebloods, Weasley is not a welcomed name and the Slughorns have fallen out of favor among many of the noble families." Ronald was making up as much as he could, hoping that the little that Ginny had given him was true. He tried remembering Margaret Slughorn, the eldest daughter of Horace Slughorn, but couldn't conjure up an image.

"I have fond memories of Horace Slughorn," Voldemort said.

"Yes, sir. He talks much about how he taught you long ago," Ronald said. That was a story he never forgot, because that old haggard man insisted on telling it every time he had met him.

"What about this I hear about a certain Hermione Granger?" Voldemort asked.

Ronald thought his heart would stop. Of course, he would know about that.

"Well, sir. I was… as the wedding date approached, I figured I should sow my wild oats, as it were." Ronald said, lamely. "She was a filthy Mudblood, practically a Muggle. She had her uses when I was busy at the Ministry, nothing more."

Voldemort looked at Ronald carefully, his terrifying eyes narrowing upon him. "Indeed," he said finally.

"Sir, I hope this will not be known by many?" Ronald asked, pretending both embarrassment and fear.

"The Decree is a sacred thing, Ronald," Voldemort said. "We need all the Pureblood witches and wizards we can get, not diluting our purity with Mudbloods. The very future of our race and power is at stake."

Ronald looked shamed and bent his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Worry not, boy. I am sure you shall produce many children with Margaret," Voldemort smiled.

Ronald nodded, relieved. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

"This has been a trying day for you, Ronald. I am sure your siblings and wife to be are anxious to see you free of this place."

"Yes, sir. They are not far from my mind."

"I shall have to delay them for some time more," Voldemort said.

That dread and chill returned. Ronald looked at the High Lord, wondering if he had seen through all his ruses.

"Sir?"

"Come with me, Ronald. I shall show you something, call it a promotion and a wedding gift."

Voldemort extended a hand and Ronald took it.

They both vanished in a loud pop.


	10. Chapter 10

**Harry Potter and the Long War**

**Chapter Ten**

MINISTRY OF CONTROL

It was the oppressive feel of the place that Ronald knew they were back at the Ministry of Control Lord Voldemort led that way, a lighted sphere floating before them in a long dark corridor. Ronald took in the sigh, something had went down here, Signs of fighting, explosions, and damage still littered the corridor.

"The Longbottoms recruited one of our brightest researchers," Voldemort said. "They twisted her mind and made her think that by betraying her overlords she was helping to bring peace to the realm." He scoffed at that. "I try to be a benevolent master, allowing Mudbloods to rise above their stations, allowing them more freedom than they need. But they are infected with Muggle blood and they cannot understand the power and responsibility that comes with purity. So they seek to destroy everything."

A huge set of doors opened before them, the room was brightly lit and Ronald noted a dozen Death Eaters and a dozen more others that he had seen around the Ministry. Researchers by their look, soft hands, glasses, and meek.

They all bowed when Voldemort walked in and as they moved to the floor, Ronald held his gasp back. Upon a stainless steel table was Lackheart, they had strapped him down and stripped him of clothing. Strange potions were brewing around him along with a terrifying looking contraption made of brass and steel that hung like a spider above him.

"How goes it?" Voldemort asked to no one in particular.

A researcher rose to his feet, he gripped a pad of parchment tightly. "My lord, we have fixed as much damage as we could, but we are still in the process of figuring out exactly what Doctor Vector was doing," the man said.

"Have you got it working?" Voldemort demanded.

"Yes, sir. We have we can't replicate it, but we are able to get the set up, that was built by Doctor Vector, running."

"What do you need to replicate the device?" Voldemort asked.

The researcher looked at his colleagues and then back at Voldemort. "Doctor Vector," he stammered. "She had years working on this project, only she knows how it really works."

"She's dead. How about Hermione Granger?"

"She worked with Vector, with her help we can begin catching up on what Doctor Vector was working on."

"Then we must get her back, alive." Voldemort looked at Ronald. He snapped his fingers and a dozen Muggles marched into the room. They were all young, strong, and from the looks of awe they gave Voldemort, loyal. "Ronald Weasley, let me congratulate on your promotion to Death Eater; first class and let me also introduce you to your new combat group."

"Sir?" Ronald asked confused.

"You will recapture Hermione Granger and bring her back here, alive." Voldemort said.


End file.
